Learning to Appreciate
by Rain611
Summary: [Formally Removing the Mask]A collection of traps that I've created. Look for updates!
1. Removing the Mask

**Forward: **I do not own Saw or its characters

This is a trap that I created not too long ago. Reviews are appreciated.

A man wakes up. He is chained to a chair at the waist and legs. His neck aches, for it has been cut all the way around, just deep enough to get through the skin, yet shallow enough to cause no damage to any major blood vessels. There is a similar cut extending from the middle of the first cut to his chin. He is bleeding, but his wounds are not life threatening. As he tries to move his hands, he finds that they have been handicapped with metal wrist braces. As he begins to turn his head to examine his predicament, his neck stings painfully. Whoever had put him here had pierced the skin that was now loose at the bottom of his neck with 10 large fishing needles. The needles are strung with fishing line that had been braided the extent that the line was about a centimeter thick. They travel upward to the ceiling, and rest on top of a pipe, where it proceeds down to his arms, which are currently alsosuspended with a support line. The support lines are thinner, each just a single strand. Five of the larger lines were looped and knotted around one arm; the other five around the other arm. The circulation to his hands is slowly being cut off. He could hear ticking somewhere in the room. All of a sudden, the TV next to him comes to life. A doll appears on the screen. He begins to talk in a sinister, raspy voice.

"Hello Curt. I have noticed that to everyone you know, you act as though you are completely different from whom you really are. You constantly lie about both your personal and social lives. Some would say that you've been wearing a mask. I say it's time to take it off. As you already know, your arms are attached to the wounds in your neck by way of fishhooks and lines. In order to clip the lines, you must obtain the wire cutters in front of you."

Curt looks ahead of him and sees a pair of wire cutters, sitting on a crate. The doll continues.

"But be aware; the closer you get to reaching the cutters, the more the skin on your neck will be pulled from your flesh. You'd better hurry up; your hands are no doubt becoming numb. If you do not cut the lines and free yourself, this room will become your tomb. Live or die; make your choice."

The TV now portrays a blank screen. Up above, the timer goes off, and the support lines keeping Curt's arms suspended are cut. He lets his arms fall, and the skin of his neck is pulled upward to the middle of his neck before he stops his arms. He cries out because his neck is now of fire from the pain, and his torn skin begins to bleed. He sits, panicked, as he quickly realizes what has become of him. He can see the cutters just ahead of him.

He takes a deep breath, and plunges his right hand forward to grab the cutters. He screams in agony as the skin on the right side of his face is torn and lifted just about the cheek. He crabs the cutters and strenuously cuts the five lines attached to his left arm, pulling the skin up to his brow on the reach. He continues to cry in pain as he is cutting the lines. He begins to bleed more profusely. Finally, his left arm falls, finally free of the lines. Curt begins to lose his grip on the cutters, for his right arm from the elbow down is now completely numb. He barely catches the cutters with his left hand. He panics as his right arm becomes too heavy to keep elevated, and the skin on the right side of his face is torn to his hairline before he frees his right arm. His right arm falls to his lap, and his skin falls back into place. He cries in pain as he drops the cutters and grasps his face with his left hand.

Curt then removes the right wristband with his left hand, and removes the left with his mouth. From within each wrist band falls a key. He keeps the keys in his lap as searches for the locks to the chains as he continues to still cry and moad in pain. He finds the lock to the chain on his waist directly behind the back of the chair. Curt sighs in relief as he is once again able to feel tingling in his right arm as it wakes up. He sees the lock to the chain of his feet between the front legs of the chair. He takes a key, and unlocks this chain while waiting to regain full use of his right arm.

When he is able to move his right arm, Curt takes the remaining key and unlocks the chain binding his waist. He slowly rises from the chair, relieved. Grasping the right side of his face, he slowly walks to the door at the other end of the room and opens it with no problem. He is met by the doll that he had seen on the TV. It begins to speak again.

"Congratulations, you are still alive. Most people are so ungrateful to be alive, but not you; not anymore."


	2. Mobility Comes at a Price

**Mobility comes at a price**

Stan wakes to find himself bound to a steel table. He has a large cut on both of his thighs, as well as his forearms. The wounds have been stitched closed. There are two chains welded at one end to the table, just next to the sides of Stan's waist. The other ends of the chain are wrapped and locked around his waist tightly and to ensure little movement. His feet hang over the side of the table, and are chained and locked to the legs of the table. His hands are not chained, however he finds that they are enveloped in metal gloves that appear to be removable. Just to his left on the table lies a scalpel. He can feel slight pains on his hands, although the cause is unknown at the moment. Due to the gloves, his hands are immobile. He sees a scalpel just left of him.

Still groggy, Stan begins to search the room. The table on which he lay is in the center, with none of the walls being more than four feet away from the edge of the table. The walls are a cold blue grey. A door is located in the wall to Stan's right.

Just ahead of him, sitting on a shelf mounted on the wall, is a TV, apparently set on a timer. Within seconds of awakening, the TV comes to life, revealing a clown doll with swirled red cheeks. The doll begins to speak, telling Stan what he has to do.

"Rise and shine, Stan. I'd imagine you are wondering why you're here. But I assure you, you've more to worry about right now than you're location. Throughout your life, you've made a very bad habit of stealing countless items despite your lack of need or even want for them, although I'd say you're robbing banks was the last straw that brought you here. You are here now to prove to me that you don't need your hands in order to survive. Your goal is a simple one; remove the chains that bind you and free yourself. Three keys are hidden in this room; one for each lock…"

Stan starts to panic as he looks at the stitched wounds on his legs and forearms. The tape continues.

"Removal of the hands was once a punishment for thievery. Fortunately for you, I've decided to let you keep your hands, however regaining their mobility will come at a price. Live or die, Stan. Make your choice."

Stan lies on the table momentarily as he decides what he will do in order to escape from this room. He looks to his left, now staring at the scalpel intently. He reaches for it, and stops, realizing that with these gloves on there was no way he could pick up the scalpel. He holds up his left hand and begins to examine the glove. It seems to be loose on him, but at what price did he hands come? He brings up his right hand and tries to slowly remove the left glove. 

"Sssssssshit!" He cries, as the skin on his left hand begins to tear. He stops momentarily as he braces himself for the pain to come.

Once again, using his right hand, he begins to remove his left glove, faster this time.

Stan hyperventilates as he progresses, knowing that yelling would do him no good at this point.

The glove is now half way off, and there are deep lacerations on his hands running vertically, approximately a half an inch apart. His wrist is bleeding. Stan begins groaning in pain now, as tendons in his hands, both top and bottom, begin to tear.

The glove lands on the tiled floor with a heavy _thump. _Stan looks at his hand in despair, eyes tearing up, as he realized that his left hand was now useless; his fingers unwilling to work for him now that he'd severed the tendons in his hand.

Still crying, Stan grabs the scalpel in his mouth and tries to cut into his left arm where the stitches are. The scalpel slips. It was of no use to him.

Stan begins to panic again as he realizes how much blood he has lost due to the lacerations on his hands. He sits, mind whirling, and finally decides that he must chew through his stitches.

He lifts his left arm to his mouth and starts to chew away at the stitches. His arm is screaming. He removes the stitches, creating a new trickle of blood. Not wasting any time, Stan chews into his arm looking for the key. Seconds later, he finds it. He pulls it out with his teeth and he puts it in his left hand.

Stan moves now to his right arm, and once again successfully removes the stitches. Another trickle of blood. He digs for a key, and finally stops, stunned, when he doesn't find one. He takes a moment to regain his breath, still crying.

He brought his left hand forward, placing the key that he'd found earlier in his mouth, and leaned forward, trying to place the key in the padlock holding his waste in place. It's no use, he can barely touch the lock with the tip of the key. Using his right hand, Stan lifts the chains just enough to insert the key into the lock. Stan lies down, this time to rest briefly. He is losing a lot of blood. After a few minutes, Stan sits up again and strenuously turns the key, unlocking his waist. He unwound the chains and sat up. _I need to hurry…_ he thinks to himself, as he begins to feel light headed.

Using his right glove, Stan began trying to loosen the stitches in this right leg. Minutes later the stitches are undone, and he grabs the discarded scalpel in his teeth and begins to dig out the key. He finally works it out of his leg, and does the same to his left leg. His breathing is now labored, and he is shaking due to loss of blood.

After getting both keys, he leaves one on the table, taking the other in his mouth, and carefully comes to a standing position, still chained to the legs of the table. He squats down and uses his hands to position the lock in such a way that would enable his to successfully unlock it. He finally undoes one chain and rises to a standing position in order to retrieve the last key. He does so, and returns to his squatting position, and unlocks his other leg. He shakes free of his chains, and falls to his hands and knees, shivering violently.

He stands weakly and walks to the door, legs screaming. He finds a round doorknob. He looks at his hands, one shredded, one gloved. He tries to take the doorknob between this wrists, but the metal glove just slides off of it. He has to remove the other glove. Stan sits down on the floor, placing his gloved hand between his feet and pulls. More tendons tear; more blood spills. He stands up again and lazily walks toward the door, his vision starting to blur. He gets there, and embraces the doorknob between his forearms, and finally opens the door. His legs are shaking, hardly able to keep him standing.

He pushes to door open and sees an old man sitting at a desk. The old man rises from his chair and walks over to Stan, who is now on his hands and knees once again. He looks up at the old man as he began to speak.

"Congratulations, Stan. You are still alive. Most people are so ungrateful to be alive; but not you. Not anymore."


	3. Closer Than You Think

Sally wakes painfully. She can't see anything. As she feels her surroundings, she gets worried. She seems to be in a box. The walls of the box are embedded with razor blades. Something has been placed in her hand; a tape recorder. She presses play, unsure of what else to do. A raspy voice begins to speak.

"Rises and shine, Sally. I want to play a game. You were once a celebrated student in your school, but for reasons unknown, you turned to self mutilation. Some might call you a Deserted Soul that has lost it's path; but don't worry, I'll guide you back to the path. Right now you are lying in a coffin on a bed of razor blades. As you no doubt have found, blades also line the top and sides of the coffin, so I'd be careful if I were you. There is one key to open the coffin. It's closer to you than you know. Live or die; make your choice."

Sally lay there, crying to herself, as she begins shifting through the razor blades that made her new bed. She stops briefly as one of the blades is lodged into the palm of her hand. She slowly raises her hand, and using the other, removes the blade. Immediately after, she feels the warm trickle of blood run down her arm.

She continues to search.

_slash_

More blood flows from both arms as the blades continue to cut. Sally cries louder now, out of what was perhaps a mixture of pain, frustration, and hopelessness.

This was going nowhere. There was no key within the reach of her hands. Sally rests momentarily, and then begins to move her feet. More blood flows as she cut her feet and ankles on the blades. She is getting exhaused from both blood loss and restless searching, unsure of how much longer she can keep this up.

There!

She feels something; not a blade. There are no sharp edges. She pushes the object with her feet until she scrapes her knees on the coffin lid, spilling more blood. She reaches desprately for the object, and finally reaches it. She holds it with both hands trying to figure out what it is. It is not a blade, but neither is it a key. It is a necklace; a cross.

Unaware of why she does it, Sally puts on the necklace, only to find that she is already wearing one. Whoever had done this to her gave her a necklace. She freezes as a glimmer of hope appears. she feels the necklace she was given, and is relieved to find the key. Sally laughs. It was right here, all along.

She pulls off the necklace and searches for the lock. It too, is right in front of her. She inserts the key and opens to coffin to find herself in a small room, the door wide open to reveal the beautiful world outside. There sits a single table in the room. On the table is a tape. Sally looks toward the door and back to the tape, taking into consideration her loss of blood. She feels woosy; weak. She leaves the tape and walks outside, looking for any hope of help to arrive.


	4. Mental vs Physical

**Physical vs. Mental**

Sara wakes to find herself lying on a cold concrete floor. The room, however, is getting warm. She brings herself to a sitting position, rubs the sleep from her eyes, and examines the room that she has been placed in. It was a very small rectangular room, approximately four by six feet. It is equipped with a closet-like branch which is where Sara now finds herself. Next to her sits a tape recorder. Sara picks up the tape recorder, opens it to find a tape, and decides to play it.

"Hello, Sara. Throughout your life you have made a nasty habit of mentally abusing everyone you know. What do you imagine the pain you cause others would feel like if it was physical? I can't imagine you would care, however, since you have carelessly driven at least one poor soul to suicide. Do me a favor and look into the room just in front of you."

Sara does so, and see's the room covered with a thick carpet of glass. To her left is a steel door with a timer on it that is set for two minutes. It hasn't started yet. To her right is a large brick oven that has been lit. There are several keys hanging on hooks above the fire.

"Your aim in this game is a simple one. Find the key and unlock the door before the timer hits zero. If you are unfortunate enough for that to happen, the door will be permanently locked, and this room will become your tomb. How much blood will you shed to stay alive Sara?"

Sara sets down the tape recorder and looks at the glass on the floor. It appears to be roughly three inches deep, and it looks like it was showered with water before she was placed here. She looks at the door and sees that the timer still hasn't started. Not seeing any alternative, Sara begins to walk through the glass, making her way to the brick oven. Here feet are instantly cut on the wet glass, and Sara cries out in pain.

She stands motionless when she reaches the oven. There are ten keys hanging there. By now they are almost red hot. Sara takes a deep breath, bracing herself, and plunges her hand into the oven and retrieves a key. She screams as her arm is engulfed in flames up to her elbow. Her arm is burned severely by the time she removes the key, however she has little time to give to her wounds. Behind her, she hears the timer in the door start counting down.

1:58

Sara begins crying as she turns around and makes her way through the broken glass to reach the door. She continues to cut her feet, and more blood flows, making the glass even slicker as she walks.

She finally reaches the door and sticks the key into the lock on the door, but nothing happens. Wrong key.

1:40

She drops the key to the ground and returns to the oven. She grabs another key, this time reaching in the other side of the oven. She burns her arm again and a piece of skin falls into the flames. Crying uncontrollably now, Sara makes her way back to the door. Once again she tries the key, and once again, it fails.

1:22

She drops the key as before, and makes the trip back to the oven. Her feet are in bad shape by now, both having deep lacerations, and bleeding heavily. She makes it to the oven. She reaches for another key, burning her arm again. Flesh is devoured by the flames this time. She makes her way back. Another unsuccessful attempt.

0:58

Sara hurries back to the oven now. Just before reaching it, she slips on the slick glass, landing on her hands and knees. Glass is lodged deep into her hands. She cries out as she removes the glass and picks herself up, determined to make it out alive. Her hands are now bleeding horribly, as well as her feet and her badly burned left arm. She finally makes it to the oven. Using her right arm, she reaches to the back of the oven, burning herself almost up to her shoulder. She continues to cry as she retrieves the key and make her way back to the door.

0:19

She reaches the door and strenuously puts the key in the lock. The timer stops at 0:14. _Click_. She hears the door unlock. She opens the door to find a note on the floor.

"Congratulation, Sara. Perhaps now you will not over estimate the power of your words and the pain you cause."


End file.
